


The Renegade Doctor

by RaineLionheart



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Eleventh Doctor, Alternate Universe, Cross-Species Regeneration, Female Doctor (Doctor Who), Gen, The Doctor Pearl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineLionheart/pseuds/RaineLionheart
Summary: The Tenth Doctor regenerates. But something is different.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue - Regeneration

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I started toying with in 2018 or 2019. I don't know if I'll be continuing it, but I thought y'all might be interested.

"I don't want to go!"

The glowing intensifies. The pain starts to unravel the very cells of this frightened Gallifreyan. The pain seems to melt into a mute, warm sensation as the cells are instantaneously transformed into something completely different.

The change is complete. And for a moment, all that can be done is...

What exactly?

Deep breath?

_ Oh! Of course, how silly of me! _

The TARDIS is filled with the sound of a gasping breath violently becoming a fit of coughing. And it's no wonder.

_ Who put all of this smoke here? _

A panel on the control deck belches a spurt of flame.

_ And all this fire? _

For a moment, it seems like it's just... too much.

_ Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten something. _

A tingling in the limbs - now it comes across clearly.

_ I've regenerated. _

The first thing to check:  **hands** .

The Doctor looks down at the new hands. Long, slender fingers. Very pale, nearly white.  _ Delicate. Feminine? _

One of the hands reaches up to feel a brand new neck.

_ No Adam's Apple. I'm a woman? _

"Oh my," a flute-like voice says.

The console room pitches from side to side, and gravity falls away. The TARDIS is falling.

_ My TARDIS! Oh, how wonderful! _

A book hits the back of a brand new head and sends the Doctor tumbling forward.

_ NOT WONDERFUL! _

The Doctor uses brand new arms to pull the new body up in front of the console. Lights and mechanical indicators are alight and abuzz; metallic infrastructure is clanging and groaning.

The Doctor groans as realization kicks in. This vessel needs landing, and two things that are vital for success - said vessel, and its pilot - are not exactly in proper working order.

"Oh my stars, now is a  _ terrible  _ time to be recovering from regeneration."

As though to salt the wound, the TARDIS gives an almighty lurch forward, almost causing the Doctor to pitch forward into the Time Rotor.

"I'm really not enjoying this!"

The TARDIS doesn't seem to care for her passenger's enjoyment and makes this known by dropping a coral pillar to the grating below, pulling cables and wiring with it. Shower of sparks burst all around console room, taking the lighting with it.

With a final groan inadequate to call a warning, the TARDIS treats the Doctor to a deafening  _ THUD _ ! and a moderate jolt as it lands.

This time, the Doctor isn't prepared. Luckily, the jump seat is.

One nearly unconscious, still-regenerating Time Lord is cushioned from falling, head spinning and identity roiling. The last thing the brand new ears pick up is the tolling of a bell.

* * *

_ I know who I am. I know what I am. That's a good start. I don't think I've ever been this clear-headed following a regeneration. Usually it's all a messy mishmash of memories and mood disorders-- ooh, that was a wonderful use of alliteration! I seem to have retained my masterful wit. And to whit; my mind is still as-- gah! What is that horrible smell? _

The Doctor pitches out of the jump seat and clatters against the grating in the floor. She gags and coughs at the oily smoke pouring out of the console, unable to move for a moment. But she manages to pull herself up and slap at a button panel. One of them should vent this foul smoke.

At once she becomes aware that the cloister bell has ceased its toll, and is momentarily relieved. She runs a hand through her hair--

The Doctor slaps her hand to her forehead, and finds an artifact. Something hard and smooth.

She examines it by touch. It's a pearl. A very large pearl, slightly elliptical and set in the center of her forehead. As her hand hovers centimeters from its surface, she can feel something... as if her hand is experiencing euphoria and anxiety at once.

_ Well this is certainly a surprise. I seem to have regenerated into the form of a Gemkind. How is this even possible? _

The Doctor pilfers her memories for anything related to the species known as Gems. Fortunately, the Time Lords were long aware of Gemkind and had a breadth of knowledge accessible to any Gallifreyan in need. The Doctor finds no mention of a Time Lord ever taking a Gem form in the records, leaving her with very little useful information.

_ Well, now really isn't the time to start patting myself on the back for being the first Time Lord to take on a Gem form. My beautiful TARDIS is in ruins! Oooooh, what if she can't fly anymore? I've been awfully hard on her as of late. I really shouldn't have gone to see Rose... _

As her inner monologue goes on, the Doctor slowly becomes aware of a light shining from her forehead- her pearl. A soft white light growing with intensity.

_ Well that's novel. _

She glances around the interior of the TARDIS. The lighting is still gone and the many small fires have all been extinguished, so the only light shines from the Doctor's pearl. It highlights the soot-covered console and debris. The Doctor sighs.

"My dear, sweet TARDIS. How could this have happened?" She pulls herself up and starts moving wreckage away from the console. It takes her a while - multiple minutes, she knows - but eventually she has room to work around the various stations.

She hopes this new regeneration likes tea. It's going to be a long night.

* * *

The Doctor remembers once scoffing at Susan about keeping the TARDIS control room pristine. Back then, the interior had been white, and she had been a young man, head filled with melodrama and hubris, and a man's penchant for shiny toys. Her granddaughter would humor the young codger and pull out the broom on the fortnight. Since her, the only other person to sweep up around the control room was Mel, once, about 300 years ago or so.

"So where in the blazes of Kasterborous did she put that broom?" the Doctor groans, pulling open cupboard and storage case alike. She ransacks an old wardrobe, tossing tangles of scarves and a few canes behind her. She finds the dustpan, but the broom that goes with it is missing.

"How am I supposed to clean without a broom?" she whines, tossing the dustpan down in frustration. She sighs and looks around at the new mess she's made. Clothing of all sorts, for all races, genders and social mores. She kneels down to start gathering up a pile when she eyes a shirt. A sleeveless aqua-blue top emblazoned with a gold star. She smiles as she recalls receiving it from a young human woman while in her Eighth incarnation. He had taken it as it stirred a fond memory but had no real use for it... until now.

The Doctor looks down at her singed and sooty suit. While her height has not changed significantly, the clothes hang from her willowy frame in a way that makes her feel as though she's swimming in linen. The top she holds in her hand, however, looks to be a good fit.

_ I need a new outfit! _ she gleefully thinks.

The console room can wait. The Doctor needs new duds. She's now a whirlwind of color and fabric, pulling every conceivable combination of clothing from every nook and cranny of the wardrobe.

Thinking over her 900 years of travel, the Doctor realizes that she may be a little out of her depth with this new form, unsure how a body like this should be clothed. No suits small enough to fit comfortably. A full dress seems like a bad idea, for all the running she does. Same with the lovely sari left behind by Romana. Maybe some jeans and a leather jacket? She still has that one she wore a few years ago.

But all of that is brushed aside when she catches herself in the full-length mirror for the first time, and see just what her new form looks like.

For a moment, she is struck by how beautiful she looks. Her hair is a a lovely shade of peach, styled in a pixie-cut. She notices that it seems to taper into a point at the back of her head. Her eyes are bright, large and sparkle with a pale blue that makes her think romantically of starlight. Her skin is almost white, like that of an alabaster sculpture. The pearl in her forehead shines dimly enough for her to examine it. It is a baroque cabochon- elliptical as opposed to spherical, and round, with no facets.

She really is quite slender. Donna had joked, but if she saw the Doctor now, she would probably have a fit--

The Doctor winces. She doesn't want to think about Donna right now.

She examines her form from all angles. Finally, it clicks.

_ Dancer. Pearls are created as playthings or pets. And they're renowned for their dancing. _

With this in mind, the Doctor begins to narrow it down.

* * *

Three hours later, she admires herself in the mirror, finally satisfied.

She wears the aqua-blue tunic with a lighter satin sash ribbon around her upper waist. Her leggings are an amber color that suits both her tunic and her skin tone. She also wears pink socks with pale blue slip-on ballet flats.

_ They aren't Converse, but I'm sure that I can run if need be. _

It is certainly an unusual look for a Time Lord - er, Time Lady. But she's not sure any other Gallifreyan has ever taken on a Gem form before, that of a Pearl no less. The only thing that bothers her is the lack of pockets.

"I'm the Doctor; I can't be the Doctor and not have pockets."

With a flare of light, her pearl spits something out. It flutters in the air. The Doctor snatches it and examines it. She thinks its a sticker of some sort. It looks like a cartoon version of... well, her. Her head to be exact.

"Did a sticker of my head just materialize from... _ my head _ ?"

Non-Organic Biology remedial studies echo into her head as she recalls another fascinating  _ facet  _ of Gemkind - personal pocket universes via gemstones. Like having a bottomless security box with you at all times. She pats her pearl and coos, "Good gemstone."

That solves that issue. Smiling broadly at her reflection, the Doctor turns away and considers the disarray of the wardrobe. She now feels centered, energetic even, and wastes no time in tidying up. She's finished in less than a minute.

_ Incredible agility _ , she notes to herself. She barely breaks stride as she makes her way back to the console room, prepared to get her precious TARDIS back in working order. After all, she's fresh from regeneration, and there are so many things to do and see.

"I can't wait," she murmurs with a grin.

The time rotor flares with light and begins to grind slowly up, then down. The TARDIS is awake, and she agrees with the Doctor.

* * *

It occurs to the Doctor that cleaning up the console room wasn't actually nessecary. She feels it, had felt it right away when she had regenerated. The TARDIS needed her own regeneration, and would take care of that on her own. But the Doctor had felt that she owed her ship that courtesy - perhaps a little of the dignity the Doctor had lacked before regenerating.

In the end, she simply smiles as she takes in the console room one last time. Many memories, mostly good, surface as she gazes lovingly at each switch, button and lever on the console. She thinks of the people who had stood beneath these coral girders, their enormous place in the universe crushed down to a tiny speck, all telegraphed on their faces as they try to process what their senses are telling them about the small wooden police box they just entered. She can remember seeing fear or wonder, or sometimes connivance. She can count the survivors, and blessedly they outnumber the fallen.

The Doctor hears a click and squeak from behind her as the door to the TARDIS opens. She chuckles, recognizing the implied dismissal. She nods.

"All right. I understand that you need your privacy. I'll be back in two days. Will that be enough time for you?"

It would be.

The Doctor smiles, patting the door frame fondly. The gesture is returned, resting deep in her hearts.

She pulls the door shut, then rests her gem against it, eyes closed.

"I love you."

She knows.

With a sniffle, the Doctor turns away and wipes her eyes.

_ Right. No time for tears - I don't know where or when I am. _

She grins and starts walking.

_ How exciting! _


	2. Doctor Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor immediately finds trouble before she returns to her newly refreshed TARDIS... and immediately finds more trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU REGENERATED FIVE MINUTES AGO. I SWEAR TO RASSILON, YOU ARE AN IDIOT.

"This isn't going to work, you know."

"Be silent Insolent Doctor!" roars the Bralkoon known as Cruel Goffig. Their bassy bellow causes the surface of the stew to splash. The Doctor sputters, trying not to let any of the foulness she is immersed in near her tongue. Bralkoon diets are severely limited, and what they can digest would kill a normal mammal in seconds.

Meek Vixal, the Bralkoon who the Doctor had pulled from a plasma gulch only hours before, refused to meet her eyes. The poor thing; they had been stalked and trapped by a Lucifer Toad just outside their swamp village. Had the Doctor arrived any later, the creature would already have been rendering their hardy body in its plasma, a painful death the Doctor wishes she could never think about again.

Vixal had been too lavish with their praise for their hero to explain that their village was extremely unwelcoming to outsiders. Especially non-Bralkoon. _Most especially humanoids_.

Needless to say, the Doctor entered the village and was declared supper moments later.

"You know, I've been described as many things by many different people, and yet I can't recall the last time someone called me insolent."

Goffig snarls. Behind them, Vixal covers their mouth with one of their tentacles. Their six eyes are filled with mirth.

The Doctor grins.

"I like to think of myself aaaaaaas..." She ponders for a moment. "Terminally Curious."

If Bralkoons could giggle, Vixal would.

Goffig leans in close to the Doctor. Their eyes are blazing.

"'A delightful dinner dies with dignity' spoke my predecessor, Malicious Oknor. Be silent, puny creature. I will not have my feast speak in jest."

"Well, pardon me for trying to save you some time and energry, Goffig. I'm telling you, this-" she twists her torso this way and that, trying to gesture to the cauldron she sits in while her arms are bound behind her, "-this is a waste of time."

" _The Feeding of the Chief is not a waste of time_!" hisses Loyal Rushta, Goffig's right hand (tentacle?).

The Doctor chuckles. The heat of the cauldron, somewhere around 1000 degrees Celsius, does little to bother her.

"Well, then let's see how long it takes you to cook me. I have a feeling you'll be at it for quite a while."

Rushta and Goffig exchange a bewildered look. Neither of them has ever heard a supper speak like this before. They converse briefly before Goffig sneers and roars, "I have quite a while to wait!"

The Doctor sighs.

* * *

"Cruel Goffig... more like Foolish Goffig," the chief says sheepishly. They shrug their tentacles before reaching out to grasp the Doctor's hand in a polite grasp. "We did not realize that there were lifeforms who were..."

"Non-meat?" the Doctor offers.

Vixal makes a sound the Doctor has come to learn is the Bralkoon equivalent of a laugh. Goffig's expression becomes even more bashful.

"That's quite all right. No harm done!" The Doctor says brightly. "But I hope this gives you something to think about. Not every non-Bralkoon is evil, nor tasty."

Goffig bows humbly and says, "Perhaps the old ways have run their course. I see now that there is much more to the universe than my people ever dreamt."

"Then you will open the village to the Others, father?" Vixal asks hopefully.

Their father makes sound like a grunt before putting two tentacles around its child's trunk, pulling them into a Bralkoon embrace. "Perhaps."

The Doctor waves as she departs for the TARDIS. She hums to herself during the trek, stopping every once in a while to admire the flora of this odd planet.

_Or maybe it's the fauna_ , she thinks to herself as she watches an enormous flowered plant ambulate after another and sink down to devour it in one movement.

Soon enough she spots the brilliant blue of her TARDIS. She reaches into her gem and pulls out a metal key on a loop of twine. The key glows in her palm. It seems to vibrate with energy.

_It's time to go._

The Doctor breaks into a sprint, hearts thudding with anticipation. She can't wait to see what her lovely vessel has for her this time.

The outside hasn't changed much; the windows are a little smaller, and the marquees' lettering is now a vibrant gold, like the star on her chest. She takes a deep breath, slides the key into the slot, and slowly opens the door.

The console room is like nothing she has ever seen before. Not a trace of metal anywhere. Everything appears to be crystalline and smooth - six pillars that each shine a dim blue. They encircle a polished white dais, upon which sits the console. The time rotor, now a transparent tube containing a dozen oblong, colored crystals, gleamed under the soft white lighting.

What delights the Doctor is all the water. A crystalline bridge runs from the door to the console. A ring moat encircles the console room, and several tall columns stand within, cascading water down the sides in noiseless falls.

Distracted, the Doctor steps off the bridge and-- onto water. What?

Looking down, she sees that her feet are firm atop the meniscus of the water. She takes a cautious step forward and meets the same resistance she would upon a solid surface.

"How interesting! I appear to be able to walk on water. That's new!" She twirls and pirouettes, never breaking the surface, moving as smoothly as though she were on ice. Feeling the pearl in her forehead abuzz with energy, the Doctor leaps up atop the nearest pillar. The water doesn't seem to be gushing up from the center; rather, it just seems to _be there_ , placid, yet ever expanding. The Doctor is fascinated.

"I think you've outdone yourself this time, dear," the Doctor murmurs. Truly, her wonderful craft has never been this imaginative. Of course, the Doctor knows that the TARDIS has it in her mind that her companion needs a change of pace. Too much has happened to the pair of them over the last century or two. The Doctor suspects that this new "desktop" is a way to offer a bit of serenity to her chaotic companion, and is grateful to know that her dearest friend knows her that well.

Serenity is something that eludes the Doctor at the best of times. She recalls days of breathless wonder and equally breathless terror, dealt with in whatever manner the Doctor reasoned to be the best possible course. Her companions were consistently forces of stability for the madman she once was. They had grounded him in constant accountability and tempered his ego when he needed it. Often, they were the ones to inspire him to follow the right course, and each and every one of them pushed him to be a better man. They made sure that he never gave up.

In those times, the Doctor had little guilt to ward away the serenity he occasionally found. But after the Time War, serenity became all too fleeting.

How long had she been without a companion this time? The question is heavy enough that she lies down atop the waterfall pillar and thinks back. Before she had regenerated, Wilfred Mott had been the last human to travel with him. That feels like ages ago.

_How long has it been since I saw Rose?_

Well, not counting his New Years' farewell, she suspects it's been a decade or more.

"And I'll never see her again."

The surface of the water ripples as a single tear falls from her cheek.

* * *

Her reverie is broken suddenly. The console bleeps once, twice... oh, only twice. No catastrophe, then.

The Doctor leaps down from the pillar and lands lightly on the console dais. She pushes a button on the communications panel and calls up the message she has just received.

The text is Tamil. She smiles to herself at the loveliness of that language and reads aloud to herself in English.

_My Mother is the Doctor._

_She'll know how to help._

The Doctor frowns and looks up at the rotor. "What is this? I don't understand."

If her TARDIS had a face, it would surely be smirking right now. Out of the corner of her eye, the Doctor sees a crystalline lever fall, and the time rotor begins chugging up and down.

"Wait, what?" she cries, "where are you taking me? Oh, this is highly irreg--" She frowns again and amends, "This is _slightly_ irregular."

She hears a sardonic bloop as the TARDIS touches down. She rolls her eyes. "You are far too dramatic, my dear."

She activates the console's screen, bringing up the relevant data.

Chennai, in the province of Tamil Nadu. 2013.

And a strange signature on her scope.

There are two actually. One several kilometers away, and one right where the TARDIS is parked. Where she stands.

_They’re both Gem signatures._

There’s something wrong in Chennai.

And to set things right, the Doctor has a feeling that she is about to meet a young human who calls her mother the Doctor.

* * *

"Vel! Hurry up!"

A thirteen year old boy pants, clutching his side as he attempts to keep up with his friend. He swallows hard at the mint lassi rising in his throat.

"Why did we have to eat before this?" He wails breathlessly.

Ahead of him is a lanky figure with long braided hair. She wears trousers rolled up to her shins and a loose blue t-shirt. Her glasses are glinting under the noontime sunlight. She urges the slightly chubby boy on.

"Because eating properly is important, and it was lunchtime. This way we have five whole hours to find it." She grins.

Velan frowns. "You still haven't told me what you think you saw."

She has, but is polite enough to not contradict him. She turns and points into the forest ahead of them. "About a half kilometer that way. I saw it yesterday when baba and I were gathering nerugi. I told him what I saw but I don't think he believes me."

Velan is becoming impatient. " _What was it_?" he presses.

The girl hesitates, twisting her hands together nervously.

"A flying gemstone."

Vel's thick eyebrows shot up. "Say again?"

“You heard me,” she growls.

“You’re crazy,” Velan mutters.

Rolling her eyes, the girl grabs his hand and drags him into the forest.

For the first minute or two, he resists, hissing at her to let him go. But she merely tells him to hush.

They reach the clearing quickly (and breathlessly in Velan’s case). The girl leans out from behind a tree and searches.

“Over there,” she says and points to what looks like a hovering jewel. It rises and falls gently.

Velan takes one look at it and yelps. He’s gone in a flash.

The girl ignores Velan’s frantic retreat. She’s too concerned with the gemstone.

It is clear and translucent, like glass. She wonders what sort of gem it is.

_How much money could it be worth_ ? She wonders. But her brain reminds her that the gemstone is currently _floating_ , and its monetary worth is nowhere near as important as _magic_.

The young teenager, perennial bookworm and lover of fantasy, has always wished and prayed and pled to the gods for a touch of magic. Something ethereal and beautiful. And helpful.

And perhaps this gemstone is what she has been waiting for.

Cautiously, the girl darts nimbly behind a mossy boulder. She peers around and spots the gemstone.

She can hear something faintly. It sounds almost like breathing.

Narrowing her eyes, she watches and listens.

The gemstone is rising and falling with each “breath” she hears.

_Eṉ nallatu_ , she thinks to herself, _it’s part of a creature?_

The breathing sounds labored. She wonders if it is injured. But of course, she can’t even see it, just the gemstone.

Carefully, she moves forward.

She is close enough now. She rests her hand on the invisible mass in front of her. She feels the rising and fall as it breathes.

“Are you hurt?” she asks softly.

She receives no response.

“I can get help from town. My Mother is the Doctor. She’ll know how to help.”

A low whine accompanies a shift in the invisible mass. The gemstone rises up into the air as the girl backs away. She feels her heart skip a beat as she tries to contextualize what is happening.

The gemstone is embedded in the invisible creature.

The gemstone is now about fifteen feet above the ground.

This creature is _big_.

She hears the low whine building in intensity. She hears a snort and feels a warm gust of air engulf her.

This big, invisible, angry creature is facing her.

“Ō ḥpak!” she squeaks and flings herself to the side as the ground in front of her depresses into enormous paw prints. She feels the invisible creature clip her ankle as she flies through the air.

She finds her fall broken by an enormous fern, which she clings to in hopes of slowing her fall.

“Let go!” a shrill voice shouts from below her.

The girl looks below her and spies a lanky figure standing atop a long, woody vine.

“Now!” yells the figure.

The girl finds herself obeying before she’s even aware, and then she is falling.

* * *

The Doctor watches as the fern frond is released from the girl’s hand and snaps back, hitting the invisible Gem creature just below the gemstone. She winces sympathetically.

_Now that I’ve found it, what do I do about it_ ? She asks herself. _If it is a Gem, I will need to destabilize its hard light form. And once that’s taken care of, how do I contain it?_

She knows that the TARDIS has several forms of containment within her nigh-infinite spaces. Keeping a dissipated Gem from reforming would be tricky, but she is certain that she can manage.

This train of thought finishes just as the young human’s rear end meets the cushion the Doctor had tossed from her gemstone the moment she heard the human approaching. The Doctor darts forward and offers the child a hand. She takes it and lets the stranger pull her up.

Grasping her hand, the Doctor says, “I”m the Doctor. There’s a monster behind us. _Run_!”

And with that, she pulls the terrified teenager deeper into the forest.

She knows that the TARDIS isn’t that far away, but she has no idea how fast this Gem… thing is. At least the human is light on her feet. She soon overtakes the Doctor, who barks out, “Left at that scarf!”

The teenager almost calls out in confusion, but sure enough, she spots a rainbow scarf, hanging from a low branch. She swings around the tree and runs on.

The Doctor is hot on her heels, and barely slows as she grabs the scarf, throwing it around her neck. She sees the teenager ahead nearing the next fork.

“Right at the hat!”

The teenager darts around the branch holding a black top hat. The Doctor retrieves this as well, clutching it to her chest.

“The blue box!” she calls ahead.

She needn’t have said anything. The teen is standing a few feet from the TARDIS door, bewildered. The Doctor comes to an unsteady halt beside her, reaching up to her gemstone to retrieve the key.

“What is this thing?” the girl asks in a shaky voice.

Glancing behind them, the Doctor hears the Gem bellowing and thrashing its way through the forest. The key lands in her palm and she grabs the teen by her arm, dragging her to the TARDIS.

“Hey! Let me go! What are you doing?”

The key sinks into its hole and clicks open the lock. The Doctor shoves the door inward and pulls the teenager inside.

Before the young girl has a chance to complain, she takes in her surroundings and is stricken silent.

The Doctor locks the door, then turns and sinks to the ground, breathing heavily.

“Oh dear, that did not go the way I was hoping it would.”

She gives a sad chuckle before looking up at the Tamil girl gaping wide-eyed at the interior of the TARDIS.

After another moment, catching her breath, the Doctor stands back up and steps to the human’s side.

“This is my ship. It’s called the TARDIS.” She looks down and puts a hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

The girl turns her gaze to the Doctor. There is fear there, but more than anything, she sees wonder. Curiosity. The young girl is staring at her, entranced.

“Wha-wh-who are you?”

The Doctor laughs gaily, and pats the human on the head.

“That sounded like a mouthful. But I believe I take your meaning.”

She clears her throat, puts the top hat on and strikes a heroic pose. “I am the Doctor! I am a Time Lo-er, Lady, from the planet Gallifrey. I am nine-hundred and seven years old, and I travel through space and time. And who might you be?”

The teen is still staring in awe.

The Doctor sighs and simplifies, “I’m an alien from outer space.”

As if offended by her patronizing tone, the teenager sneers and says, “I got that. I’m not an idiot.” 

She takes a breath and returns, “I’m Kahaani.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the (I'm sure awful) Tamil phrases I got from the internet. Please feel free to correct me.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bit of the first chapter written. If there's enough interest, I may continue.


End file.
